


Stop throwing your only weapon, Steve!

by PrincessMariana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Steve Rogers is still Captain America, also bucky thought steve should have a shield because hes tiny and got the crappy serum, bucky during the war - STOP THROWING THE SHIELD STEVE, bucky got the good serum, he just didnt have cap vibes, hes just a tiny captain america, i can't even remember what movie in mcu we were up to in 2015, i cant even remember 2015, i couldn't come up with a good title and ive been thinking about this for literally five years, i have so many headcanons for this fic that may never be written, i started writing this in 2015, so steve got the shield, that was like 50 years ago
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28067496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMariana/pseuds/PrincessMariana
Summary: Steve joins the army before Bucky, and so Bucky gets Erskine's serum and rescues Steve from the POW camp. Despite Bucky's best efforts, Steve still becomes Captain America (albeit a tiny one) and leads the Howling Commandos, with Bucky at his side.Fast forward to the 21st century. Steve is chasing after Nick Fury's assassin and accidentally acquires a new body guard. Sam is not impressed. Tony won't stop laughing.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Stop throwing your only weapon, Steve!

**Author's Note:**

> I literally started writing this in 2015, when these kind of fics were all the rage, and I was obsessed with Shrinkyclinks. (I can barely picture 2015. I still thought I was straight. I had never heard of Donald Trump. I thought MCU was the best thing ever and would never betray me. Simpler times.)
> 
> Quick warning for slurs against Germans. Since I had to google offensive words for Nazis during WWII, I'm assuming no one uses these words anymore so they're probably not triggering? But I thought I'd mention it just in case.

Steve woke with a start, his heart pounding and his whole body aching. He tried to sit up, but a strong hand kept him down. He didn’t feel the pain of many needles, or the sharp kicks from the Nazi guards, so that was a good sign. Still, Steve knew better than hope too much. The whole thing with Bucky coming to the rescue could have been a dream. Hesitantly, Steve opened his eyes.

He was in a tent. A single lantern dimly showed the tan walls and the cot Steve was on. Bucky was sitting next to him at the edge of his seat, leaning forward with one hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You’re awake,” Bucky said, a familiar look on his face.

Steve knew that face. He’d seen it many times when he was in the hospital. The thank-god-you’re-alive face of relief and dread for the future. “Did-did everyone make it? Are you alright?” Steve croaked, his throat sore from screaming and dehydration.

“Just minor injuries. Yours were the worst.” Bucky stood up. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

When Bucky quickly left the tent, Steve, ignoring Bucky’s order and his protesting body, gingerly sat up, feeling out where it hurt the most. Nothing was broken, from what he could tell, but he still had major bruising on his arms and sides, and minor burns on his legs, probably from when the Nazi base had exploded. Overall, not that bad. Steve wondered how long he’d been out for.

Bucky returned, a nurse right behind him. “Stevie, what’d I tell ya?” Bucky scolded.

Steve raised an eyebrow. As if he ever took Bucky’s advice.

The nurse gave Steve a water bottle. As he drank, she checked the bandages on his legs and then gently pressed at the bruises at Steve’s side. Steve winced, and Bucky stiffened.

“Nothing’s broken,” she told him cheerfully. “You’ll be in pain for a bit, but nothing too terrible, I don’t think. The doctor looked at you while you were unconscious, and he wasn’t concerned. You’ll need a week of bedrest before you can be up and about. Alright?”

Steve nodded. “Thank you.”

She smiled, glanced flirtatiously at Bucky, and left.

“A week,” Bucky said sternly.

Steve shrugged, grimacing at the pain the motion caused. “So, what happened to you? You’re taller.” Which really wasn’t fair, Steve decided. He felt even smaller looking up at Bucky.

“I only grew an inch,” Bucky said, grinning. “I volunteered for this project. I thought it was my best shot at getting to you.”

Steve listened as Bucky explained about the project and Dr. Erskine. When Bucky got to the part where he had practically threatened a colonel, Steve laughed, a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “You said _what_?”

“I said either he let me contribute by being something other than a lab rat, or I’d leave the army.” Bucky smirked. “He didn’t have much of a choice. They’d have to kill me if I tried to leave, and, you know, I’m worth a couple million dollars.”

Steve snorted. “You mean your _blood_ is.”

Bucky ruffled Steve’s hair. “Smart mouthed punk.”

“Jerk.”

“So, anyway, they decide that I should help out at the boot camps. I’m fine with that – I’d be making a difference or something. Except, every Sunday – God’s day – your ma was rolling in her grave, I bet – they wanted to do these tests on me. They didn’t hurt much or nothing, but it wasn’t all that fun. So I told them I was done with boot camp. It was a good experience, don’t get me wrong. Apparently I have a hand for shooting things. Who knew? So they send me to here, probably so Philips can yell at me in person, but then I hear you got your sorry ass captured by the Nazis. I took off – instinct probably, after all those years saving your dumb ass. Agent Carter – she’s a fine woman, if you know what I mean – and Howard Stark – you know, the millionaire – flew me over, and I dropped down. It really wasn’t that hard to get on the base. Those Jerrys aren’t all that bright. I found the other guys. They were trying to escape and actually succeeding. Apparently you’re smarter than you look.”

Steve glared at him while fighting a blush. “It wasn’t all my plan. Someone else would’ve noticed the break between shifts eventually, and it wasn’t that hard to slip a key. We just had to wait for a distraction.”

“Yeah, I heard. Like you picking a fight.” Bucky glowered.

“It almost worked,” Steve said stubbornly. “They’d’ve taken another guy down for…whatever they were doing anyways. I just made their decision easy.”

“That’s nothing to be proud of, punk.”

Steve scowled. “What happened next?”

“I gave them a hand, and they directed me to you. I grabbed you, and we made a dash for it. You remember meeting Schmidt?”

Steve thought a moment, sorting through his hazy memories. “The guy with the red face?”

“Yeah. Dr. Erskine was making the serum for him before he defected. The serum didn’t work too well on him, but he’s still stronger now. Wish I could’ve knocked him off the bridge, the bastard.” Bucky stared at the floor pensively.

Steve stiffened. “Buck? What aren’t you telling me?”

Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair, meeting Steve’s eyes. “I ain’t upset or nothing, but…The doctor said your asthma is gone – how the hell he knows that beats me – and your heart problems – all gone.”

Steve blinked. “What?”

“You’re healthy,” Bucky explained, fidgeting in his seat. “Your blood pressure is good, breathing’s good, heart’s good – everything. The Hermanns were experimenting on you and – the doctors – they think it was for the serum, except-” Bucky waved a hand at Steve’s body. “-it just affected your health, not your size or anything.”

Steve’s breath caught. It’d been hell, what the Nazis had done to him. But maybe it had been worth it if he was now healthy…? Steve wasn’t sure. He didn’t really believe it. There was no way enemy action could have benefited him, but Bucky would never lie to him, not about something like this. “If I’m miraculously well, then why’re you upset?”

Bucky scowled, eyes fierce and flashing. “You were tortured, a POW. You should be sent home. But they want you to lead a team against Schmidt.”

Steve frowned and cocked his head to the side. “Uh, Bucky? Are you feelin’ alright?”

“I’m just fine!” Bucky snapped. “As long as you go home!”

“There’s no way they’d want _me_ to lead a special team,” Steve said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s all applesauce.”

“I think it’d be a bright idea.” Bucky reached over and grabbed Steve’s hand, rubbing his thumb on Steve’s knuckles. “You came up with an effective escape plan on the spot. All the men love you. You’re a great leader. I just-” Bucky drew back with a sigh. “I hate seeing you get hurt and – Stevie, you almost _died_. I can’t lose you again. _Please_ , for once in your damn life, let this one go.”

Steve swallowed hard as he saw the pain in Bucky’s eyes. “Bucky…There are men-”

“-laying down their lives. Yeah, I know.” Bucky stood. “Get some sleep, punk. A week, remember.”

“Jerk,” Steve whispered as Bucky left the tent.

+++

Steve moved a few steps back and then ran, bursting through his apartment window with just enough momentum to reach the neighboring building. He was a small guy, not meant for catapulting into building, but he had enough experience and strength to manage. As soon as he was in, Steve jumped to his feet, lifting his shield like a battering ram. He could see the sniper running above him. The fellow was _fast_.

He stumbled, almost colliding with a wall, but soon put himself back on course – the benefits to being tiny. After turning a corner – and blowing through a pair of doors – he saw the assassin jump down onto the rooftop of the building over. Steve braced himself and lifted his shield as he broke through yet another window. He landed on his shield, his shoulder taking the brunt of the impact, and rolled to his feet.

The sniper was already running. Steve wouldn’t be able to catch him at this rate. He threw his shield, aiming low. He could almost hear Bucky rebuking him, telling him _not to throw away his only weapon_. In a swift movement, the sniper stopped, turning with an outstretched arm and caught the shield with ease. Before Steve could react, the assassin threw the shield back with a mechanical _whirr_.

The shield hit Steve in the chest, propelling him backwards and knocking the wind out of him. Doubled over, he gasped for air, horribly reminded of his pre-experiment days. The shield fell to the ground with a clatter, but Steve ignored it, focusing on evening out his breathing. His head was swimming, and everything looked fuzzy.

He didn’t notice the assassin approach until a voice said something in what sounded like Russian, a bit too close for comfort. Steve stumbled back, almost off the roof, but quickly regained his footing. “I…could do this…all…day,” he panted, glaring at Nick Fury’s killer.

Speaking was a mistake, he realized, as he broke out into a coughing fit. He could barely _breathe_ , much less fight. Not that that had ever stopped him before, but in his pre-experiment days, his opponents were generally averse to murder.

The assassin pushed him down, more gently than Steve had expected, so that Steve was sitting on the ground. Steve struggled against the hands on his shoulders, and the man’s grip tightened – still not painful but almost. Steve braced himself for a punch or hit, but the assassin just stared at him.

Steve steadied his breathing as they stared at each other. He wondered what Bucky would say if he saw him now, locked in a staring match with a killer. Probably something with a lot of swear words, Steve imagined.

The assassin said something in Russian. His voice was gruff, as if from ill-use, but the words didn’t sound threatening. “Sorry,” Steve said. “Do you speak English.”

The man paused for a moment before nodding. “Yes.”

“Are you…” This was the weirdest confrontation of a hostile Steve could remember. “Why did you shoot Director Fury?”

The man, his face still expressionless, replied in a dead tone, “Mission objective – eliminate Nick Fury. Objective complete.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Steve asked. It really wasn’t a matter of ability. Steve wasn’t the strongest fighter without backup. He was more of the strategist of the group. Right now, Steve’s strategy was to remain calm.

“No. You are-” The man faltered, confusion flickering on his face – the first sign of emotion Steve had seen. “My mission is – you are – mission does not compute. Repeat mission parameters.”

“You don’t know your mission?” Steve said carefully.

“Repeat mission parameters,” the man said.

Before Steve could respond, a cold voice cut in loudly, “Mission parameters – destroy Captain America.”

The assassin tensed and then, faster than Steve could blink, he pulled out a gun. Steve flinched at the loud _bang_ , but he felt no pain. A body thudded to the ground, and Steve looked over his shoulder. On the adjacent roof, a body of a man lay crumpled.

“Mission objective confirmed,” the assassin said, holstering his weapon and straightening. “Protect Steve Rogers.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been staring at my for so long, I figured I should just post it. What's another WIP that I can stress about?
> 
> Please let me know what you think and if I should continue this archaic trope! :)
> 
> And say hi to me on [tumblr](https://princessmariana-writes.tumblr.com/)! (I always need more tumblr friends.) :)
> 
> Also, if anyone has better title ideas - please, please, please let me know.


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